


your eyes, they see clear

by rensshi



Category: WayV (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-29 19:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21415648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rensshi/pseuds/rensshi
Summary: In the brief silence then, Lucas held onto Hendery’s wrists where his hands were on Lucas’ chest, for some kind of anchor. Mouth agape with the panicked feet-in-quicksand feeling. He realized right there, that he needed to start thinking about when he’s suddenly become this starved for touch, his insides displaced under his skin with the fever of it.
Relationships: Wong Kun Hang | Hendery/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 6
Kudos: 148





	your eyes, they see clear

**Author's Note:**

> i'm back infiltrating the luhen tag w/ bad porn.

The human mind can only retain so much newly gained knowledge with three kinds of memory: 

One being long-term, impossible to truly forget and it makes up everything you are and who you think yourself to be. Like the natural punch you have in your first language, rapidfire rolling off the tongue and ceaseless. The brain learns to store things long-term, in diligence and repetition, or flagrancy like how Haechan had drilled Lucas into remembering his actual name by shoving his national ID card under his nose and saying _ repeat after me, Haechan is Lee—Dong—Hyuck! _ Short-term is the mind's way of saying ‘hey we’re doing you a favor and filtering out what can’t stay in your tiny brain’.

And then there’s the space where everything falls in between: mezzanine, which is neither short-term or long-term. Like one of many CF scripts read over and over again so it's 'memorized' but most of it forgotten again when you can't recite it word for word on cue anymore months later.

“Boring,” Yangyang drawls at the end of Xiaojun’s spiel about memory. He's gone on to the next self-help book on his shelf back in their dorm. Xiaojun makes a move like he wants to strangle Yangyang but thinks better of it, settles back into his seat. On Yangyang’s other side in the van, Sicheng is still headbanging to a song they cannot hear, airpods in. He predictably dozes off the longer they’re stuck in Beijing traffic.

At the venue, when the rest of them have gone ahead to the dressing room, Lucas finds himself in front of a lonely vending machine in the corner of the cream-colored hallways, staring. He’s not sure what to get. He slots in the coins anyway.

“If you get Cola as well, could you stick it into your pockets? No one will know,” Hendery asks, bright red of his jacket bleeding gently into Lucas’ periphery. 

“You could put it in your sleeves, there’s plenty of room,” Lucas suggests, tugging on said sleeve. 

With Hendery’s sleeves rolled down so his fingers peek out underneath, he could hide it. Only if they were set to perform and not waiting out the short breaks for a variety show. Kun isn’t going to nag at them for drinking soda.

Lucas jolts, his hips jerking forward like he’s pulled by a hook when Hendery forcefully slots the can into a back pocket of his tracks, the coldness of it making Lucas yelp. “It’ll freeze my ass,” he complains, and Hendery retracts the offending drink.

Instead he hooks his fingers into the pocket, and that brings back heat rushing through. “I can make it up to you,” Hendery assures him. Lucas thinks back to the conversation this morning in the van on their way here, and wonders if the body reacts, are the memories that come with it long-term?

Hendery makes it up to him by letting Lucas card his fingers in Hendery’s hair in his room after they get back, ready to turn in, exhausted. The beginnings of a weird dream were starting to flicker behind Lucas’ eyelids, the rift in between waking reality and subconscious. It stops when he feels the weight of the bed dip and he cracks open an eye.

“Are you still here? You can just go to sleep,” Hendery whispers, snapping his fingers in front of him. Lucas grunts something indistinguishable. But he brings in Hendery closer so his knees are framing Lucas’ hips. The soft _ ah _of surprise Lucas hears and the hitch in breathing is enough to bring him back to life. He pulls Hendery in over him until he’s hard against Lucas’ stomach with his breathing rough, a scorch melding into warm honey on his tongue.

  
  


\-----

Some time leading up to their comeback in May, when this all started, Hendery had pulled away in the middle of their making out after a shoot and straight up said, both matter-of-fact, both hesitant, “You’re not even sure if you really like guys.” In the brief silence then, Lucas held onto Hendery’s wrists where his hands were on Lucas’ chest, for some kind of anchor. Mouth agape with the panicked feet-in-quicksand feeling. He realized right there, that he needed to start thinking about when he’s suddenly become this starved for touch, his insides displaced under his skin with the fever of it.

“I don’t know,” Lucas started with, hands already pushing away Hendery’s wrists, so they went back to standing within each others’ space in the cramped bathroom cubicle, without touching. “I just—I like doing this with you.”

“Nice save,” Hendery snorted. He'd asked before if he wanted to stop but Lucas had shook his head, tongue too big in his mouth. His heart thundered in his chest when Hendery tugged Lucas forward slowly by his belt loops, stepping forward in the cubicle, and it only made sense to close the space again, kiss away the prickle in Hendery’s eyes until they’re bright and starry-eyed again.

“Check yourself.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Hendery’s voice drifts over to him between the stylists floating in and out to prepare them for their music show performance.

Sicheng purses his lips across Hendery in their dressing room, lips freshly glossed. “I said, check yourself”—he says in English. Switches back to Mandarin—“you heard me. You look possessed.”

Hendery is jacked up on a baby version of Jaemin’s old Starbucks coffee order, and they’re sure Sicheng has never had to tell Jaemin the same thing. “We’re using phrases, not words now?” Hendery asks, spinning wildly around to zero in on Ten.

“He wanted a real challenge,” Ten says slowly and purposefully, the cogs in his head already gathering a smart ass response. 

“But 'obvious' is my new favorite word now,” Lucas says, wistful. 

They’d started imposing English words of the day on themselves the same way Ten used to do for Mandarin. 

It’s how Lucas found out that there are words that make his ears go hot: _ Tease_, will send warmth scathing Lucas’ insides and he’ll remember, with disturbing clarity, the inviting firmness of Hendery’s legs when he’s straddling Lucas’ back, kneading his palms in between Lucas’ shoulder blades when Lucas is too tired to move. _ Contact _ will make Lucas think of his own hand pressed on Hendery’s hip, the other hand flattened over Hendery’s heart in a back hug. _ Hoarse _absolutely does not make Lucas think about Hendery’s voice in the dead of the night at 2 AM, rough and so very honest murmuring against his neck. 

Nobody ever said how frighteningly crude and instinctive the need can get. Once you get past the embarrassment of jizzing yourself within a minute of dry humping with your bandmate like two fourteen-year-olds, there’s no going back. 

Screw what your brain won’t let you forget. Seeing Hendery for the first time with his face tinged red, eyes dark with the post-orgasm glaze in their hotel room during another endorsement schedule with just the two of them hauled off by their manager to Shanghai, made Lucas’ skin crawl with heat along his thighs for a while whenever he as so much uncapped fucking sunscreen. It was the clinically weird tropical scent of the sunscreen he smelled around Hendery’s hands when Hendery waved the product in his face, before they got each other off, the scent Lucas inhaled when he’d licked the shell of Hendery’s ear. 

“I didn’t date around_ that _ much back then,” Lucas protested after that, a pillow on his stomach that Hendery has propped one of his legs on. Lucas had the urge to tickle his foot but he wasn’t in the mood to get dropkicked even if he’s fully capable of pinning down Hendery’s slight weight. They had no other distractions—just the two of them alone, their manager a door knock away in the room across them. 

“Yeah right,” Hendery laughed, incredulous. He’d nibbled on the metal spoon, chocolate ice cream licked clean off it. They’d ordered dessert through room service since Lucas was raking in higher paychecks already. “Says everyone who grew up and decided that every girl you dated only through chat for two weeks when you were like, fifteen, didn’t count.” 

Lucas doesn’t really talk about the pretty college girl who sneaked him into a bar once when he was still in secondary school. Never mentions his old friends by name even though he used to scroll through his feed for hours on his locked Instagram account to like his friends’ posts, the private account with the unsuspecting puppy as its profile picture ever since he left home for Seoul. The same way Kun never actually says anything at all about the ex-girlfriend he wrote half his old songs about, and just delicately bangs it out on the piano with Renjun and Chenle shimmying their hips behind him in the studios. 

So he doesn’t ask questions when Hendery kisses with enough technique that he's learned to get better at—knows when to give in to let Lucas lead, uses the right amount of teeth grazing to coax Lucas into kissing him deeper. Holds him firm and sure by the sides of his face to keep kissing until Lucas is moaning into it on the nights he’s too tired to really care about being less messy. 

That’s not happening now. 

With Hendery on his caffeine crash after their music show schedule, he’s going to need a proper bed which is hardly ever an option anyway, moments of privacy being rare back in Seoul.

He’ll need Lucas to hold him upright in the shower--Hendery's face is shiny pink from product already, eyes squeezed shut against the spray of water. He keeps his eyes closed as he makes room for Lucas.

“If my stomach was lined with carpet, like floors, someone’s trying to tear them off in my stomach,” Hendery says, sweeping his wet bangs off his forehead so his eyes are visible. He’d looked like he wanted to throw up eating their dinner earlier.

“Thanks for the image.” Lucas gets to soaping immediately before he’s even fully wet, mechanically scrubbing away.

Hendery nudges Lucas forward so he’s directly under the spray. “I’m never drinking any version of Jaemin’s concoction again.” Lucas can feel Hendery rest his forehead in the gentle dip between Lucas’ shoulder blades, breath warm on his spine.

“Here.” Lucas rubs his fingers across Hendery’s scalp, the suds forming from the shampoo Hendery’s lathered onto his hair. His wet bangs hide his eyes again when he helps rinse it off. When Lucas clears his hair away from his face, Hendery tilts his head to kiss him, mouth slotting easy and wet on his with the cool after-tinge of toothpaste. 

Lucas can’t feel the water, already low and gentle in pressure, against his shoulders when he’s narrowed down his senses into drawing out the soft low sounds from Hendery’s mouth. Hendery is growing hard, and Lucas would have cupped him there and thumb the head to tease already if Hendery wasn’t keen on kissing down his neck, teeth closing down and sucking on delicate skin gently, the sound of it magnified in Lucas’ ears. The last time—first time—they did this, they hadn’t dragged it out very long, hands slipping while they jerked each other off in haste.

Lucas’ knee bumps Hendery’s leg and Hendery jerks, hands on the wall to steady himself. He frowns when Lucas grins at him in apology, but goes back to melting against touch. The tension line along his shoulders visibly dissipate when Lucas runs his fingers through the hair at the base of his neck, cups the back of his head when he kisses him again.

“You first,” Lucas says, hand on Hendery’s wrist to stop him when Hendery makes to touch Lucas, his cock already dark and heavy against his stomach.

“And if I’m too tired to get you off after?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Lucas says, before he bends down to suck on the skin below Hendery’s ear, tongue laving his neck. His thumb swipes Hendery’s nipple, and whatever Hendery’s response was going to be just cuts off in a gasp. He’s so wired already, which is why Lucas doesn’t want Hendery doing anything to him yet.

Lucas drops to his knees. He licks along the length of his cock as Hendery shudders, his back pressed against the wall. His hips look even smaller under Lucas’ hands.

“Fuck—” is all Hendery moans, when Lucas swirls his tongue along the underside, before he takes him fully into his mouth, starting off slow. Hendery tends to be quiet about it, and Lucas only knows it feels good because of the scrabble of Hendery’s fingers in his hair and the sharp frustrated exhale after Lucas pulls off suddenly. 

“Look at me, baby,” Lucas tells him. He’s learned to like when Hendery watches him do this. Almost as much as he likes the view when he’s easing himself into Hendery’s mouth, his eyes all half-lidded and shiny, the pretty pink in Hendery’s cheeks darkening even more when he hums around Lucas’ cock, moaned around him when Lucas found out calling him _ baby _while at it gets Hendery horny as anything, makes him even more eager. 

Lucas wraps a hand around himself for the needed friction, groans around Hendery’s cock at the relief and Hendery keens like that, the sound going straight to Lucas’ dick in his own hand. He keeps his jaw slack, and nudges Hendery’s hips forward. Hendery never does it without any encouragement, but he gets the unspoken green light, for him to fasten his hold on Lucas’ head and fuck into his mouth.

It isn’t long before Hendery gasps and he can’t keep his eyes open anymore. He comes quietly, falling apart with barely any noise but Lucas feels it from the rough thrust of Hendery's hips, to the liquid heat filling his mouth and dribbling to his chin and down to the iron grip Hendery has in his hair.

It's quiet for what feels like a long time after Lucas stands. Hendery catches his breath in between trying to brush his mouth against Lucas'. Lucas can't really kiss back properly; he’s near dizzy with his own arousal, can feel the faint ache in his jaw.

“You can do me like this,” Hendery suggests quietly, turning around to face the shower wall, water rivulets shining down his back and running down the lean muscle there. Lucas doesn’t get what he means until he tells him to slide his cock between his thighs and _oh_—the slide is easy when Hendery’s legs are still wet from the water.

Lucas snaps his hips against Hendery’s, the slap of skin loud against the bathroom tiles. The movement makes Hendery whimper a little, but he turns his neck round, pulls Lucas into a rough kiss, poorly aimed, with more tongue than anything. 

“You don’t have to hold back,” Hendery reassures, but it makes Lucas’ throat stick. The part of him that wishes he could let Hendery enjoy this, make this a little easier and more comfortable is what makes him hesitate.

“Should be doing this on a bed. _You_ need a bed,” Lucas rasps, surprising himself when he kisses the back of Hendery’s head. The more time they spend like this, the easier it is to let the affection trickle out, stronger each time.

Hendery exhales shakily, trying to get used to the feeling of Lucas' cock sliding against his balls. “One day, you can fuck me properly. I want you to fuck me,” he continues saying, voice jagged, and Lucas shuts his eyes harder. They talked about this before. Just in theory because the thought scares the hell out of him. It also makes him feel something that can only suspiciously be called anticipation.

This is just another thing that’s going to stick around in Lucas’ head, will probably make him pop a boner in the shower because he’ll smell the same conditioner they use, and that might really suck when he’s got schedules in America again in the next couple days. The thought of Hendery and his whole _ being _ was already crossing miles of distance now, thinks he can sometimes feel the warmth of Hendery pressed against his body under the sheets, continents apart when Lucas falls asleep, and not even in a sexual way. They're not anything more, and yet that counts for something.

Something more visceral than his hands gripping Hendery’s narrow hips, other hand slipping down his waist as Lucas keeps fucking the tight space in between his legs.

Lucas cranes downwards to suck the base of Hendery’s neck where the ridges of his spine show, hard enough that it leaves red. Lucas' hand slips against the moist wall when his orgasm comes crashing down and Hendery keeps himself steady in between, holds onto the arm that Lucas has wrapped around his waist, lets him ride it out until he’s breathing hard into Hendery’s neck.

“Next time, we’re doing this on a bed,” Lucas says, wincing at the mark he’s left on Hendery’s shoulder. 

Hendery’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Scoot aside, I need to wash.” Hendery glances over his shoulder at Lucas when he helps rinse away the mess on his inner thighs, suds draining away. “You don’t have to,” he says, but he keeps still. The tiredness seeps through their limbs like sticky syrup. Hendery’s eyes are clear, and glistening when Lucas catches him staring at Lucas’ face, a question there unsaid. 

“No. I just want to,” Lucas tells him, rubbing his thumb in circles on Hendery’s arm.

He feels Hendery relax into his hands, the inexplicable shift. Feels the silent kiss he leaves on Lucas' shoulder, soft touch blooming under the skin when Hendery buries his face against Lucas’ neck.

  
  



End file.
